To Be Equal
by Twin Kats
Summary: Loki fell, and to everyone on Asgard, seemed lost. On Midgard, 1996, a certain God of Mischief finds himself trapped with his own demons, and curious to spite himself. Who was this boy that tasted lightly of frost? Loki needed to know. / HPThor cross
1. Chapter 1

**To Be Equal  
><strong>_By Twin Kats_

Loki felt weak as he struggled to hold on. His chest throbbed and his eyes stung as he stared up, hopeful, into Odin's face. Odin who had taken in a runt of a Jotun; the abandoned offspring of Laufey, surely Odin understood everything? Surely he knew why Loki had to do all this?

Surely this…_everything_ hadn't been all for naught?

"I could have done it, Father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!" he shouted, hopeful, his gaze _pleading_ for his father-figure to understand. _Please understand!_

The words Loki wanted so hard to say, wanted Odin so hard to understand, were brushed aside as the Allfather just stared down at him.

"No, Loki," Odin rumbled and Loki felt his world crumble as he locked eyes with the Allfather.

Loki's fingers went lax, his grip slipped, his vision swam with unshed tears. A bitter smile curled his lips as he fell. Thor's yelling was distant to his ears. All he could think, all he could feel, all he could see was Odin's face.

Odin's eyes.

Odin's voice.

_No, Loki_.

He was just a monster hidden behind a mask of Asgardian flesh. A Frost Giant runt, unwanted and unloved. A failure, a miscreant. Not a Prince. Not an equal. A broken tool.

Loki, the Trickster. Loki, the Liesmith. Loki, the Shapeshifter…the Frost Giant. He was Odinson…no, Laufeyson. Murderer of his own father (or was it mother? He could never quite remember), his own flesh and blood….

'_Loki, the Monster,'_ he thought. _'How…fitting…an end.'_

Darkness claimed his vision.

* * *

><p>Traveling with the Bifrost is not quite instantaneous, nor is it senseless. There are lights and sounds and touches and smells and tastes that one gets as they traverse the paths of Yggdrasil. To be truthful the travel is quite daunting, and for one who has never traveled with the Bifrost, it is actually disorienting.<p>

It had taken the Asgardians many, many years before they came to use the Bifrost without any apparent disorienting affects.

Traveling along the secret paths, the hidden spiderways of Yggdrasil is vastly different than travel with the Bifrost. There is no light, no sound, no smell, no touch, no taste. Just emptiness, timelessness, endlessness; it was more daunting than anything Loki had before seen, these forgotten darkened roads.

The god of mischief, purveyor of chaos, had felt a…kinship with these less tread, lesser known pathways. When he had first uncovered them, lifted off the dust so to speak, Loki had been awed and terrified. They were so, so different than the roads of the Bifrost. He nearly got lost the first few times he'd taken these secret routes.

But the _feel_ of them, for despite the fact that these pathways were senseless there was a _feel_ to them, was simply amazing. Loki could stretch out his pours of magic and feel the endless cosmos through these hidden spiderways. They interconnected like a web, and he could _see_ the timeless paths to every which direction.

It had taken the boy, now a man, many, many years of traversing the paths but Loki had eventually become intimately familiar with their sliding ways, their infinite routes and darkened corridors. He learned from them, learned to sneak and to hide himself from Heimdall's gaze thanks to them. He'd become so intimately familiar with them in fact that he could travel along them, navigate them, with but a thought, sometimes less than that even.

It was probably due to his infinite familiarity with these secret paths, these hidden spiderways, these darkened roads that had enabled Loki to survive when by all rights he should have rightfully perished in the destruction of the Rainbow Bridge and the Bifrost. His magic sought out, without his permission, and tugged him subconsciously into these secret paths. He fell aimlessly down them, unbidden, unknowing, until the light burst into his eyes and his chest was knocked against flailing feet into a realm of chaos and war.

Loki was the God of Mischief, the Trickster, a purveyor and supporter of the element of Chaos. To be shunted quite forcefully out of the hidden spiderways and into a realm of light and danger did not startle nor unsettle him. To have his ribs knocked against tripping feat, here laughter of battle and cackles of madness, did not lend him to panic. In fact Loki took his new position in stride quite easily.

His gaze swept the room from the floor, took stock of the chaos around him, and then he acted. First by far was to drag the mortal back from the spiderways lest he be lost among them to perish, or land in a realm unsuited for his being. He reached out with his magic, his tricks and his trade, and _tugged_ the man back by the spirit, sealing the pathway closed. His fingers wrapped around the ankle of the flesh and anchored the mortal body back into this realm.

Bedraggled and confused the mortal fell to the ground and not into the pathways and Loki nodded to himself, satisfied.

Then the God stood upon his own two feet, pushing into the back of his mind the remnants of the pain in his chest. He tried not to think of earlier, when the weight of Mjolnir was settled on his chest, nor of the broken ribs he undoubtedly had from when he picked the fight with Thor. In fact Loki was doing his damndest not to think of Thor or Odin or what had happened _period_. He wanted no thought of the Frost Giants, his attempted genocide, his rage, or his heritage to enter his mind at this time.

All Loki wanted was to revel in that which he reveled in: Chaos. Considering he was thrust from the passageways into a realm currently filled to the brim with a bit of Chaos, and considering how shitty these last few days had been for him, Loki felt he deserved a chance to unwind. He was _not_ thinking of why he should unwind, he was _not_ going down that darker path. Not now, not here, not when chaos was leaving its mark.

With a laugh and a grin the God of Mischief leapt into the foray of battle. He twirled expertly through the jet of spells, shifted his being minutely as he cast his own right back. His hands remained stayed from the set of knives constantly hidden on his person. The last thing he wanted to do was cause death at this time. No…he wanted to revel in the flows of a more 'innocent' chaos.

A childish delight.

At least he had wished to remain so until his cape caught aflame. With a narrow eyed glare the fires put out and his gaze turned towards a blonde aristocrat and Loki snarled. He ignored everything else, marched right up to the blonde, and punched him solely across his jaw. Duplicates quickly and viciously incapacitated the allies of this arrogant _fool_.

The blond man went down like a sack of potatoes. Loki continued to sneer at the unconscious form as he rubbed his aching fist. His duplicates vanished in a wave of greenish gold light as the remaining, free mortals cautiously made their way towards him.

"Are you…alright, mate?" the one who had tripped over Loki's entrance asked near hesitantly, a look of tired laughter in his eyes. Loki could hear slightly shocked and strangled gasps from a few of the people around him.

"His jaw was…stronger than I expected, for a mortal," Loki muttered petulantly, his eyes narrowed. He scanned the room lightly and then calmly stepped his way up the steps. He ignored the voices cry out to him to wait, and deftly dodged any spells cast in his direction although many of them just fizzled out near his person.

Loki's senses, his magic, were screaming to him. The strands were calling and tugging him out of this room. Someone, or something, needed him. There was some form or agent of Chaos present, here, somewhere. Loki could _taste_ them, almost. Chaos and Death—sweet and strong and steadfast and _magical_ with just the barest hints of frost.

Almost like himself, in a way. Like called to like more often than not, Loki knew. So he marched, straight back with narrowed eyes, out of the room. He followed the tugging strands thought doors and down a hallway until—

"_Kill me now, Dumbledore….if death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…."_

Loki shifted to the shadows, eyeing the scene before him. A boy on the ground, his eyes an unnatural red with a hidden shade behind them; green, Loki thought. They were supposed to be _green_. So green, like his own gaze, haunted and tormented…

An older man that tasted of decay touched Loki's senses. He stepped away from the decrepit and weak figure with a bitter sneer. Too much righteousness with too much oil surrounded that one. The last figure, near collapsed, tasted of serpent and rage and brokenness of insanity. Loki kept himself as far away from _that_ one's gaze.

Insanity did not bode well for Chaos, it never did.

Carefully Loki knelt down beside the boy who spoke in sibilant hisses, the one that tasted of chaos and death. Gently he eased his own magic out, tested the strength, the resolve, to find why the eyes seemed so strange, so _wrong._ Loki reared back with a hiss of rage.

_Possession._ This _child's_ will was bound, not to his own mind but to that of _another!_ With a snarl and but a thought Loki snuck his way _beneath_ the oppressing presence and down to the child hidden away. He gave the boy a bolster of strength, support and aide, and the oppressing mind retreated with a roar of rage. Green eyes cleared and cloudily looked up into equally green eyes.

Like face stared into like face as Loki shifted the boy into a more comfortable position in his lap. Something else of this child of chaos and death was familiar to the Asgard Prince, although the Liesmith could not list what it was. He figured it had something to do with the lingering taste of frost but he could not be sure. Not now, not without a more in-depth reading.

Now was certainly _not_ the time for such a thing anyway.

Subconsciously Loki carded his fingers through the child's hair, blotting out all sound around him as like face stared into like face. Neither noticed as the snake-one left and the decrepit-one came closer, but Loki did hear him speak, did hear him ask his name. Loki figured he would bid the foul tasting one that boon, if only due to the feeling of safety he got from the child, all aimed towards the old goat.

"Loki," Loki said simply, and helped the child of chaos and death stand. Calmly he placed a kiss to the child's fingers and murmured a gentle, "'Till we meet again," and then vanished from their sight.

He was curious.

* * *

><p>Loki followed the decrepit-one and the child of death and chaos as they left the monochromatic building that he learned was called the 'Ministry of Magic' which made his eyebrows raise in slight surprise. None of the lessons he had with his Father and Brother had ever suggested that Midgard had a functioning society of magic!<p>

Perhaps, Loki mused, they on Asgard had stayed their hands from the other realms for far too long, if things had changed so drastically upon the world that used to worship them as the Gods they are. His lips curled slightly as he settled back against the wall by a red and gold plumed bird.

Loki did not want to ponder about Asgard, not now. No…he was more interested in the little chaos and death mortal, than anything. He didn't want to _think_ or _remember_ Asgard or its peoples.

Loki just wanted to forget; to lose himself in his own nature.

So Loki did.

His eyes roamed the office with faint interest as he listened to the argument beginning to brew between the child of chaos and death and the old decrepit-one. As he listened Loki felt rage bubble up beneath his skin, his eyes began to narrow and his teeth began to bear in a slight snarl, but Loki held himself in check.

"On the contrary…the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength," was uttered. Loki could feel the rage in the little child of chaos and death begin to burn. His own blood nearly boiled with a cold intensity as his eyes began to glow.

_Pain_ is not strength, Loki wanted to sneer. He wanted to reach out and grab the child and hold him close. _Pain_ is not to be praised. _Pain_ is debilitating, _destructive_. It builds until its unleashed in a torrential of power and _it kills_…oh how it _kills!_

"My greatest strength, is it?" the child questioned. "You haven't got a clue….You don't know…"

_No_, the decrepit-one, the one of oil and age and the stink of maggots did _not_ know true pain, did _not_ know what it felt like to have ones world torn asunder. Loki could see it in his impossibly blue eyes, eyes like _Odin_, eyes like _Thor_. The green gaze of the child _knew_ pain, and he knew it well. It was an old friend…a dangerous beast, but a friend.

Like _Loki._

And still, Loki saw and heard, the old one continued! He persisted, he _pushed_! Could he not see the beast he could awaken if he pushed too much? Could he not _see_ the terrors that could be unleashed because of pain? _That fool._

"What don't I know?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?" the child replied and Loki found himself pleading silently, leaning forward just slightly, _begging_ that the old man leave sleeping dogs lie. _Don't push_, he wanted to say, _don't push or you'll unleash a terror not seen upon this world!_

He was not heeded.

"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human—" the decrepit-one was saying and Loki almost jolted at the roar of rage that came from the child. He near flinched back, the rage licking at his Jotun blood, drawing forth the nature he tried so hard to suppress. It brought a fit of rage from within Loki as well, and all he could see was _Odin_ staring down, like this old man, uncaring of the emotions and feelings he inflicted in the so-frail not Asgardian body….

"THEN—I—DON'T—WANT—TO—BE—HUMAN!" It was a tantrum, one Loki could connect with immediately. Talks between 'father' and 'son' broke down and the child just raged. Silently, internally, Loki raged with him as he all the while bottled up and blocked out the past. He forced himself to see _past_ the similarities, to _ignore_ them.

This was not Asgard, this was not the Vault, this was not Odin and Loki…this was an old mortal man and a young child that was so much like _him…_Loki tore his mind from his thoughts the minute he felt frost lick at his fingers. He hissed softly and tugged his nature back.

He didn't notice the frost gathering at the child's feet, or the frost that coated the items the child tossed and destroyed in rage. A rage that shimmered bright, but like any child throwing their first tantrum, their first _real_ tantrum at any rate (not a giant bloody life turning upheaval tantrum that ended in death of a few beings like Loki's) the rage simmered down back to a light boil and the fight left the blood. Instead the urge to flee came across.

It was strong enough that Loki near teleported _out_ of the room, but he froze in favor of pondering this new mystery. He was _not_ an empath by any stretch of the imagination, so what connected him so thoroughly to this mere mortal boy? It bore thinking upon.

So with one ear Loki listened to the tales that began to spin (and idly he wondered just who this 'Black' was and when they died, surely not at that little bit of Chaos he witnessed!) whilst his mind elsewise was occupied with this growing connection to the boy. How could a mortal child (and a part of him clamored at the thought, exclaiming that this boy was no mere _mortal) _have bewitched and ensnared him so? How could this mortal child call upon that which Loki had not even known _existed_ until recently?

It was a befuddling predicament, one that Loki was not at all pleased with and yet in many ways Loki was mighty pleased all the same. Perhaps this child and him could heal and bring chaos amongst the nine realms and along the tides of Midgard. Maybe even seek out the mortal woman that entangled Thor and changed his brother so much that he held _compassion_ for Jotunheim?

_Compassion for monsters?_ Loki wanted to scoff and bitterly question as to when Thor had taken up _his_ area of expertise. There is no way that Thor could ever hold compassion for a _monster_, not even for Loki. To those thoughts the little God grit his teeth and banished them back. He had told himself he would _not_ think on those painful memories. He would not reminisce, he would _not!_ He would lose himself in his nature and the chaos that bled freely in this area.

He would wreak havoc and mischief upon all of Midgard, and then maybe slip away to one of the other realms like Vanaheim and cause some chaos there as well! Yes, that sounded like a wonderful idea! He would ignore the past and look forward to a bright future of chaos and mischief! He would not look at the similarities of this old mortal man and his claiming of fear that the connection between the child and the insane-one could be utilized _against_ them, that the child could be forced against his will, that he was _fearful_ for the child, and so kept him in ignorance.

Like Odin did Loki.

Loki frowned lightly as the emotions rolling off the child, the rage and a hatred and a sorrow, fluctuated back and forth. He would scream out angrily, choke back a sob, and Loki felt it all mimicked back within himself, somehow. His gut twisted at the thoughts, and yet he could find no connection there. He _felt_ it but could not see a one! There was more at work here, more deep and hidden going on, Loki felt.

And then the old one began to speak more and more, about caring _too much_ but Loki could see not even the child believed the old man then. No, no this child had been hurt too deeply, and it was through the decrepit-one's doing, and the decrepit-one _knew_…it was an anvil on a pile of even more anvils, ready to topple at a moments notice.

Loki didn't bother silently pleading anymore. He just shook his head, knowing the direction all this would take. The bitterness stewing inside the child would grow and grow unless someone intervened. Loki would not, not now, and not _here_. But later, oh yes, he grinned. Later Loki could find the child and he would be there. He would show the mortal an outlet for the bitterness. He would _help_ the child.

And then _maybe_ he could learn what this damnable connection between them meant.

Without a glance to the room Loki stood from his perch. He didn't even glance at the bird who was staring at him, instead he just left. He had plans to plot, ideas to lie, and mysteries to solve.

Loki'd find his little chaos and death later, _after _the mortal unleashed his rage and anger upon the old man and his office one last time.

* * *

><p><strong>Summary: <strong>_Loki fell, and to everyone on Asgard, seemed lost. On Midgard, 1996, a certain God of Mischief finds himself trapped with his own demons, and curious to spite himself. Who was this boy that tasted lightly of frost? Loki needed to know. / HPThor crossover / HarryLoki_

There is a plot, and a plan. I'm running through the random thought that the Bifrost travels not just through space but space/time, and that Loki's secret pathways are much the same. Until now Loki hasn't actually traversed 'time' but just 'space'.

I also have quite a lot of thoughts about Loki and the end of the Thor movie. Anyone notice the tears in his eyes as he fights Thor there? Anyone _else_ thought that Loki wasn't attempting to kill his brother, but to motivate his brother enough to kill _him?_ That Loki wanted to end all the 'monsters' all of the Jotuns, even himself?

Because Loki, you have to realize in the movieverse, was raised with the knowledge that a Frost Giant was a monster. All Asgard children were raised with the thoughts of Frost Giants being the bogeymen that hide under your bed or something akin to that. Loki even mentions it, how he's 'one of the monsters parents tell their kids about at night' or something like that. When you raise a kid with the thoughts of 'these people are BAD' and that kid finds out he's actually one of those people…of those people everyone where he lives fears, how do you think the kids gonna react?

_Very. Fucking. Poorly._

Odin _really_ fucked up by _not_ quelling the 'Frost Giants' are monsters things, and by raising his own children with the same ideology. Of _course_ Loki's going to fucking flip after that reveal!

So this story is mostly going to focus on Loki struggling with himself, believing himself to be a monster (and not just a _mother_ of monsters, but a true fucking monster) because that was how he was raised. He's unsure and hurting and lonely and he's trying to deal with all this pain in the best way he can. His behavior _is_ self destructive insofar that he's actually _not_ dealing with the problems. He's outright _ignoring_ them.

He's trying to forget they happened.

Meanwhile he meets these 'mortal's' like Harry and others, and suddenly he's got his past slapped in his face with how Harry is treated, how Harry reacts to things. Harry is like a mini-Loki to Loki (and really, can't you see the parallels? And I don't mean just looks) and Loki would more than likely _run away_ from Harry accept…something about Harry draws him in.

He's curious to spite himself.

And Harry might just help Loki heal, a little bit. There'll be romance (but it'll be kind of slow) there'll be sex (that's not so slow, but then hey, Loki's pretty promiscuous anyway, really) and there'll be struggles.

But it'll be fun, over all.

_And oh, would you look at that? This is the first Thor!Movie/Harry Potter crossover. Yes, yes it is. And __**yes**__ I was fucking pissed off to not find HP in the list, and yet look! __**There's goddamned Twilight**__. That was wrong on so many levels. So here's my correction._

_(fuck twilight)_

_Unbeta'd, but hey, beta'd version soon!_


	2. Chapter 2

**To Be Equal  
><strong>_By Twin Kats_

By all and any rights Loki had fled the minute he had left that room. His steps had been quick and his movements silent as he stalked the stone halls of the stone building. He shivered from an unseen cold, although he had to wonder just what cold it was that could cause _him_ to shiver. Truthfully Loki had never been touched by cold before, although the summer heats are a different manner entirely.

So what he felt, the Asgard Prince knew, was not a chilling cold bleeding into his skin, but a bone deep cold that held some sort of meaning. Either way it had Loki wrapping his arms tight around himself, rubbing warmth into warmless skin beneath fabric and armor. His green cape swirled about his feet as he moved in an unseen wind.

Loki stalked deep into the bowls of the stone building, with no thought nor direction to his movements. The cold slowly seeped away and warmth crept lightly into his bones which still ached from the fight he'd had with Thor not many hours before, and then coupled with his rather rambunctious actions the minute he had collapsed out of the pathways…yes, Loki was tired, and aching, and sore, and battered. He wanted to sleep and hide for as long as he could.

He could barely stand on his own two feet now, even. It was only sheer stubbornness that kept him remotely steady as he walked. Deeper and deeper and deeper into the stone depths he traveled until he could go no deeper. There he stumbled through a door and into a rather empty room. He near collapsed through the threshold, righting himself in the last second as his gaze blearily swept the room a second time.

A bed had mysteriously appeared.

The God of Mischief did not ponder where the bed came from, only that there was a bed there and that he could finally rest. Ignoring the aches and pains of his bones and his bruises had taken its toll. All he wanted was to sleep and hopefully never wake up. It is what a monster deserves, he thinks.

It is what _Loki_ deserves.

The Prince scoffs softly to himself and curls up, closing his eyes and drifting off into a fit off dreams. He never notices how his skin pales into a shade of frosty blue as the magic hiding his nature bleeds away. He is too exhausted.

Still Loki sleeps and Loki dreams, and they are unhappy and fitful dreams, but Loki does not wake.

* * *

><p><em>He is back in that ancient Vault, the tomb of relics, of Odin's conquests. He stands before the Casket of Ancient Winters, the last relic that Odin obtains before he finishes warring with the other realms. The relic Odin steals from Jotunheim.<em>

_Hesitantly his fingers raise, he breathes out shakily. He wonders if he dares to touch the Casket, if his nightmares would bleed true? Would his skin change colors, would his eyes burn red? It frightens him, terrifies him, but he wants to know. He __**needs**__ to know. His fingers brush and he lifts and Odin arrives to interrupt him._

_He sets the Casket down heavily but already his fears are confirmed and it just matters if his questions will be answered. He hesitates to turn around, to break the silence between him and his father who may not be his father. But he swallows his pride, he needs to know, needs to ask, needs to understand._

"_Am I cursed?" he says._

"_No," the Allfather replies._

_He turns around and his skin is horribly blue, terribly blue. His eyes are blood red and burning and glowing and he feels so cold. It scares him, this strange face and strange form that is not his own and yet it is, it really, truly is…._

"_What am I?" he asks, his voice wavering ever so slightly. The blue bleeds back to pale pink and he feels warm again, like himself again, but not. He's a parody of Asgard flesh, not truly Asgard, not truly himself anymore. He feels distant and weak._

"_You are my son," Odin pleads._

_Wrong. He feels wrong. He swallows heavily and takes slow measured steps towards Odin. Slow and measured because he fears if he doesn't move slow and measured he'll wobble and fall and collapse and cry and rage all at once._

"_The casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?" he clarifies and holds his breath. He begs silently for Odin to deny it, to lie and acclaim it was all joke. He really is cursed and not a Jotun, not a Frost Giant. He's not a monster, he __**can't**__ be. He's a Prince of Asgard, not a mockery hidden by magicks, not a changeling in fake skin._

_But Odin does not hear his silent pleas, his silent beggings, and bares his fears true._

"_No," he says, his voice subdued. "In the aftermath of the battle, I went to the temple, and I found a baby. Small for a giants offspring. Abandoned. Suffering. Left to die. Laufey's son."_

_He hears himself repeat, distantly, disbelieving, "Laufey's son?"_

"_Yes."_

_And it hurts, it hurts so much, so, so much. It hurts that his—that Laufey didn't want him because he was small, he was weak. Always weak, he wonders, was he always this weak? Has his chest always felt like it is burning? Has his eyes always stung so? Has air always been so hard to take in, to breathe?_

_His world is crumbling and yet there is still more to find out, still more to know. Still he needs to know__** why**__? Why take a child, why take an offspring of a giant, why this ruse, why raise him as his own? Why __**lie?**_

"_Why?" he asks, and his breath is quicker, more frightened. If Odin notices he does nothing to comfort, and if he thinks back Odin never truly offers Loki comfort in the past either. "You were knee deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?"_

_Odin doesn't answer and his breath quickens further. He tries to puzzle out why this man he has looked to as Father for years would do what he does but can find no answer. He panics and screams out, "TELL ME!" because he needs to know, he __**needs**__ to __**understand**__, and can't Odin see that?_

"_I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day. Bring about an alliance. Bring about a permanent peace, through you," Odin finally says and he is lost, confused. He doesn't understand._

"_What?" he says, weak and broken. He feels so small, nothing fits right in his mind. Everything is so, so wrong. The world is crumbling and falling and he can't stop it. He can't set it right, he can't even __**see**__ where it went so wrong. Why is his world crumbling, why is his father standing away from him? Where is his mother, where are the arms he longs for, the comforting words he wishes to hear?_

_Where is Thor, his brother? Everything is all messed up and twisted and broken. Nothing fits._

"_But those plans no longer matter," Odin states sadly and he truly is lost now. He isn't following his father's logic. How are these plans lost, what were these plans in the first place? Why has he not ever told him, why did Odin keep it secret?_

_Did Odin not trust Loki?_

"_So I am no more than another stolen relic," he says, his eyes wide and pained. He tries to make his father's words make sense. "Locked up, here, until you might have use of me."_

"_Why do you twist my words?" Odin demands and he shakes his head. No, no, his father isn't making sense!_

"_You could have told me what I was from the beginning! Why didn't you?" he asks instead, because it __**has**__ to make sense, somewhere, somehow, everything should connect and his world will right again, won't it?_

"_You're my son," Odin states. "I only wanted to protect you from the truth."_

_No, he thinks, that can't be. How is this protecting him? How is this protecting Loki? So he questions, he pushes, he __**wants to understand**__._

"_What? Because I—I—I—" he stumbles for the words, they catch in his throat. He's afraid, so afraid, and he feels so cold. "I'm the monster that parents tell their children about at night?" he finally finishes, and pleads to Odin. To his father._

_**Please**__, father, don't let this be true._

"_No!" Odin says quietly, he's sitting down, but Loki is not watching. He cannot watch, he's trying to figure out what his father is saying. He needs to understand._

_The words spill out before he can stop them, the bitterness coats his tone. He wonders if this is why he's always been treated like a guest in what should have been his own home._

"_It all makes so much sense now," he spits out like acid. "Why you favored Thor, all these years!" The rage build and builds and builds and he steps closer to his father. His voice raises and he ignores the hand, he ignores the silent and weak look on Odin's face. He's too far gone. "Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you couldn't have a Frost Giant sitting on your throne of Asgard!"_

_It all makes sense and he feels a dark and burning and festering strange emotion curling up inside him. Its like humiliation and bitterness and jealously and pride and sorrow and pain and hatred all wrapped into one tiny cocoon. He's so far gone he doesn't realize his father isn't replying until he looks. Then he stumbles, falls down beside Odin._

_Loki's throat is tight, his eyes are burning again, and he feels like something has lodged itself right beneath his chin. __**No!**__ he thinks. __**Don't do this to me! Not now! You still haven't explained! I still don't understand!**_

_But Odin is ill and sick and no longer aware of the world around him and Loki is lost and alone and confused and there's nothing he can do, no way to understand, no one to help him figure out these burning questions. There is no comfort, only cold and loneliness and bitterness and festering anger and hatred._

_And he thinks, he thinks that this might just be his fault. His fault that Odin now sleeps, that Odin is now in a wakeful death. That Odin is not here, and neither is Thor. It's all his fault his father might just be dead, forever._

_That's what probably hurts him the most._

* * *

><p>Loki awakens sharp and quick. His eyes snap open and his skin feels taunt and painful. He doesn't notice that the glamours had faded while he slept and he's Jotun blue, but he does feel the dried, encrusted, and frozen tears along his face, tugging at his cheeks. He sits up slowly and stretches just a bit as the glamours inch their way back across his skin until he's Asgardian pink once more.<p>

Tiredly Loki rubs at his eyes, he wonders what dream he had to make him cry so in his own sleep, but pushes the thoughts aside. He's tired and famished and he knows how Midgard affects those who step upon her earthly shores. His magic has waned from its overuse, and his body is in need of nourishment to replenish his stores.

Loki stands, and he's thankful when he feels not even the barest of tinges in his chest, or where his bruises must've been. They all healed up with his rest and so he has no more a remainder for what happened before. Loki can't help but think that this is good, he doesn't _want_ any reminders. He just wants to _be_.

For now though he needs to figure out just where he is (besides that it's Midgard, to which he can tell with the simple taste of the air and how his magic thrums, just a bit different and just a tad weaker) and maybe find a kitchen for some food. And then he'll wander off and seek out entertainment (or maybe even that little green eyed chaos and death) and relax and just relish in being _free_.

He deftly ignores the cost of his freedom as he wraps himself in a cloak of invisibility and magic and steps out into the stone halls. He drags his fingers lightly along the walls, nails scraping and scratching against the stone, but oddly soothing. His feet wander and his mind remains just a tad shy of blank (only thoughts of food truly occupying them) as he moves.

Eventually he finds his way into the main hall of this place and comes to a halt. There before him is his little chaos and death (and he does not really ponder on why the mortal is his, because Loki has always named things and people of prospect amusement as his; even _Thor_ was his, not that Thor knew) talking with a fair haired child that looks like a strange amalgam of an offspring of Thor and Heimdall.

Loki isn't too sure if that's a terrifying thought, or an amusing one.

What he does know is that this girl can _see_ him, see through his enchantments in much the same way Heimdall could before he learned from Yggdrasil's hidden spiderways, and yet, Loki realizes, this girl could probably even see him _then_ too. She's like Heimdall two-point-oh only shorter and weaker and dreadfully _mortal_. Loki can't help his lips twitching upwards at the strange thought.

He really is quite hungry.

Loki sighed and leaned against the stone wall, his gaze on his little chaos and death and glancing every now and then at the she-Heimdall who would, every now and then, glance at him. He decided to wait until either she left, or his little chaos and death left, and then ask the remainder for the path to some food.

The choice was taken right out of his hands, unfortunately, by Heimdall's errant butt-baby. Loki's lips quirked as he mentally swore to himself to never, _ever_ repeat that phrase in Heimdall's presence. _Ever_.

_That didn't mean he'd keep it from Thor, though…_a near delicious cackle almost escaped his throat. His stomach rumbled instead.

Still, the girl spoke up, and Loki found himself shedding the spell of invisibility with a sigh.

"You do realize, God of Mischief, that you are among friends here?"

Loki's lips twitched into a sardonic smile as he uttered, "Do your All Seeing Eyes tell you that little mortal, or are you just making me comfortable?"

The girl just smiled and walked away, not even finishing her conversation with Loki's little chaos and death. Loki snorted.

"Rather rude," he muttered, "but if she _is _Heimdall's spawn…." He rolled his eyes. It was highly unlikely.

"Er…Loki, is it?" the boy said softly and Loki's gaze drifted towards him and a truer smile split is face.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the kitchen is, would you?" he asked. "I'm quite famished. Not sure how long I've been sleeping, but I feel like I haven't eaten for _weeks!_"

It took a bit of goading but eventually the mortal boy (and that _really_ bothered Loki for some reason; like an itch somewhere that he couldn't quite scratch, but he wouldn't stop unless he had _proof_) lead the way towards the kitchens and some grub. Loki couldn't be sure but the child seemed…lighter, somehow. Like some good news had finally reached his ears.

Or that could just be the relief of his stomach talking, since he was _finally_ getting some food.

* * *

><p><strong>Summary: <strong>_Loki fell, and to everyone on Asgard, seemed lost. On Midgard, 1996, a certain God of Mischief finds himself trapped with his own demons, and curious to spite himself. Who was this boy that tasted lightly of frost? Loki needed to know. / HPThor crossover / HarryLoki_

The end of this chapter was written when I was practically starving. Right up until the sentence _He was really quite hungry_ had been written. Then I got some food and settled down to write some more.

So yeah, Loki's hunger? More like the author's hunger…stupid lack of food in this house.

Anyway I would like to say _oh dear god so many reviews!_ Seriously, I right about fainted when I saw the number in my inbox. If _this_ is the attention I get for writing in a comic fandom, even _partially_—! I should write in comic fandoms more often!

Seriously, I don't get much praise elsewhere…you guys are so awesome. I worked extra hard to spit this chapter out just for you!

For my Anon reviewers, thank you for taking the time to leave a review! As for questions that have been asked here is the simple Q&A chart below:

**Q **This is Book 5 at the Department of Mysteries right?  
><strong>A <strong>Yup  
><strong>Q <strong>The blonde, is that Lucius?  
><strong>A <strong>Yup. Loki decked Lucius Malfoy.  
><strong>Q <strong>Is the child Harry, Insane-one Voldie and Fawks the bird?  
><strong>A <strong>Yup on all accounts  
><strong>Q <strong>Romance between Loki and Harry?  
><strong>A <strong>Yes, this is a Loki and Harry gay romance. There may even be bits of Thor. I'm still debating.

As an interesting note I got asked on when Loki appears next movie wise (granted I feel I should note, dear Anon, that there IS one more HP movie coming out this summer: Deathly Hallows Part 2) and I feel I should point out that I do not know this. I have heard rumors, and according to IMDB (which oftentimes is FAIRLY trustworthy, but sometimes they get tricked) that Tom Hiddleston WILL be returning as Loki in The Avengers in 2012, but don't trust me. Go look it up yourselves!

_(I feel I should also point out however that the Avengers __**were**__ created originally to combat Loki, or at least __**one**__ of the Avengers groups were, and since Thor is in this one, its most likely that they'll be going with the Loki-combat created Avengers; which is awesome 'cuz more Hiddleston! Yay!)_

I feel I should also point out to my dear Anon that Midgard is Earth, Vanaheim is home of the Vanir, the cousins of the Aesir, and Asgard is home of the Aesir. Loki was raised upon Asgard, as a son of Odin, and an Aesir. Aesir from what I understand are more warring, while Vanir are more similar to your greek gods and goddesses. Meaning they sleep around a lot and focus on beauty a lot or something. I don't know. I just know that the Vanir and the Aesir are kind of cousins.

And of course Helheim I think it is spelt is the underworld. Funny how Loki's own daughter ends up ruler there, don't you think? Then again she is half-corpse…

There's a _reason_ why Loki is called the 'Mother of Monsters' after all. Not just because he tends to birth them, but his own child _do_ tend to be monsters….


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